Turgon stood steadily at the entrance as he did every other day that he guarded the passageway for the female gymnasts. Today, there was something a little different. Gone was the sash that he had often worn. He had meticulously braided his hair and brushed the rest until it shined. Off to one side, there was a carefully wrapped package from the local florist.
Each lady was greeted with the same nod or polite congratulatory message. One competitor was singled out. Turgon spent his time looking for her as he idly addressed the others, and upon seeing her he hastily scooped up the package, unwrapped it, and hid it behind his back.
“For you,” he said as Elenwe and one of her teammates came to the entrance. He had stepped up to block their path, and they both looked a little perplexed at having almost walked right into him.
“I think he means you,” said the blond gymnast standing beside Elenwe. She gave her teammate a little nudge.
“Oh... um... thank you,” said Elenwe. She took hold of the bouquet, which was bursting with red roses. “This is a lot of roses,” she replied as she looked down at them.
“Two dozen, plus three extra ones. I bought all that they had left.” He clasped his hands behind his back and said, “You did very well today.”
“I placed sixth,” she said dryly.
“You placed in the top two percent,” corrected Turgon. “When you look at how many people were competing, you did quite well!”
Elenwe looked at her companion for assistance. The blond only laughed and escaped around Turgon. “See you later, Elenwe.”
“Lantaquesse, get back here,” hissed Elenwe. She turned her attention back to Turgon, who had masterfully managed to stay right in front of her no matter how she moved. “Uh, thank you,” she said as she attempted again to move around him.
“You are welcome.” Turgon smiled and asked, “Would you like to go together after you have dressed?”
“Uh... go where?” asked Elenwe cautiously.
“To a surprise place,” he said. “I like you, and I thought I would take you somewhere special that I have not shown to anyone else.”
A smile appeared on Elenwe’s face. If it was someone else, she would have assumed that the overly honest confession and invitation were an attempt at humor. Coming from Turgon, it was the truth, and her curiosity got the better of her. “Tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, right after you finish here. You are not busy, are you? I asked your father and he said that you would be free.” Turgon’s face filled with concern.
Elenwe stared at him blankly. “You asked my father? What did you ask him?”
“Just that, and if you had any other prospective suitors,” said Turgon. “It is always best to know these things so that circumstances do not become uncomfortable for the parties involved. I like to do my research ahead of time.”
“Do you?”
“Indeed. I spoke to your father yesterday, and explained my intentions to him, and he said—“
“What intentions?” interuped Elenwe.
Turgon tilted his head. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Not to me,” Elenwe admitted.
“I intend to court you.” Turgon frowned, and caught sight of Thranduil attempting to sneak into the passage past him. “Excuse me.”
Turgon sidestepped into Thranduil’s path and gave him a good stare down. “Just wanted to make sure you were still paying attention,” said Thranduil as he backed his way out of the entrance.
“I am a wonderful multitasker,” Turgon reminded the younger ellon. When the ladies were once again safe, he returned to the task at hand. “I must complete my shift, but we will be free to leave following that.”
“Should I expect to be out late?” asked Elenwe.
“If you want to. It is up to you. If it were up to me, I could stay there for days – but you will have to make that decision when we get there.”
“Is it far away?” she asked.
“No, and that is the last clue I will give you.”
Elenwe headed down the passage, holding her bundle of twenty-seven red roses and wondering if it had been such a good idea to tease the guardian as her teammates had suggested weeks ago. It took a while to find enough vases to put them in and she was sure her teammates would tease her when they arrived the next day. One of the roses had a bent stem, so Elenwe plucked the flower and tucked it behind her ear. She emerged later to find Turgon standing in the exact place she had left him. “I am ready,” she said.
“Excellent. I just need to wait for the rest of the competitors to exit.” Turgon stayed in his same position, while Elenwe nodded, coughed, and wandered awkwardly around the area. “So... do you... want to talk?” he asked when he noticed that Elenwe’s movements were akin to pacing.
“Sure. What should we talk about?” she asked.
Turgon thought for a moment. “Tell me how you became interested in gymnastics.”
“Well, my mother used to take my sister and I for walks every day when I was little. My sister was older, and my mother was making an attempt to get her out to meet people. She is really shy. Anyhow, we would always pass by the gymnasium, and sometimes if they had a demonstration we would go inside to watch.
“One day, they had a contest at the end of the demonstration. They had a balance beam and they wanted to see who could walk over it most creatively. I had no idea that it was a recruitment tool; I just begged my mother to let me try until she finally relented. Most of the girls trying were older than me, but they were all boring. They would prance across it, and maybe do a flip or try to somersault. When I got up, I was laughed at for being so little, but they let me anyhow.
“It was great, because there were still a few girls behind me waiting to go. They thought I was going to fall off right away, but I stayed on. I got up onto the beam by running up to it and doing a flip onto it like I saw the competitors do. Everyone else just climbed up, and not very gracefully. Not me. I never do anything in half-steps. So, I realized everyone was impressed, and then I started to do a cartwheel, but I stopped halfway on my hands. Then I walked across on my hands and did the rest of the cartwheel off the end. The rest who were waiting sneaked back to their seats and that was that. I won, and my mother was shocked to say the least.”
“I bet you must have impressed a lot of people,” said Turgon.
“I did. They offered me a year of free training at the gymnasium. My mother was very worried, that after the year I would be so excited and interested in it without a means of paying for it, but everything fell into place. My sister married the coach of the gym, and I never ended up paying for any of my training. I really needed less in terms of teaching and encouragement than most. I have an ‘innate grace’ as I was once told. I just needed the time and place to practice.”
“We can go now,” he said abruptly.
“Oh.” Elenwe watched the final group of competitors leave the area. “Sorry, did I bore you with that story?”
Turgon looked surprised. “No, not at all. I thought it was very interesting. I just thought you would want to leave this place, since we were done here.”
Elenwe tried not to laugh. “Of course. My mistake.”
They did not have to go very far at all for the place that Turgon had in mind for their first date. It was, in fact, near the place where he had retrieved the bottles of Airenen. There was a small and meager garden consisting of a few trees which had lost most of their leaves and some flowers which were covered in leaves. Beyond this there was an iron gate, which was unlocked yet unopened.
“Where are we?” asked Elenwe as she followed Turgon to the gate, which he opened casually as if he was here before and often.
“The Eastern Regional Sedrynerin Theological Residence. This is where the monks live.” Turgon stood aside so that Elenwe could enter past him.
There was a long walkway, lit with lanterns that hung from posts imbedded in the ground. The path had ropes to keep those who entered on the path and off the grass. There were some elves tending to the inner gardens. Some were picking grapes carefully from vines, while others were lovingly pulling carrots and potatoes from the ground. Turgon waved to them happily, calling out to each specifically, wishing them well. All of them gave a nod or in the cases of the younger ones a small smile, and then returned to their work.
“Are we even supposed to be here?” questioned Elenwe.
“Everyone is welcome here,” explained Turgon. “Anyone can be here – you have never been here before?”
“No,” she replied, somewhat confused as they entered the actual monastery. The walls were tall and made of dark bricks. Inside, the halls were dim, but lit by torches that were set in sconces along the walls.
Turgon took a moment to stop at an altar just inside of the main door. There was a table with pieces of coarse paper and charcoal for writing. He began to write out a list of comments. “They love to get suggestions,” he said as he finished and folded up the note. “However, everyone is so intimidated, I was once informed I am the only one who does this.” He placed it into the box and offered his arm to Elenwe. “Now, onto the best parts of the tour.”
The pair continued on, turned a corner, and climbed down a set of stairs, arriving in the basement. Here there were three elves in long robes silently standing at large vats with long wooden sticks that they were using to mix whatever they were making. “This is where the magic happens,” said Turgon excitedly. He brought Elenwe right up to one of the vats, which smelled heavily of alcohol. “This is where Airenen is made. Only these three know the actual recipe for it. So, if something happened and they all drowned at sea that the same time, the secret would be lost. I suppose that is why they never go boating together, or ever, for that matter,” reasoned Turgon as he took Elenwe to another vat. “This one is a cooling vat, after they put all the spices into it. And that one over there… oh, nevermind, that one there is just soap. They make soap here, too. I guess because that way it helps rid the place of the smell of the liquor. Really would be inappropriate for them to go out and minister smelling of alcohol.”
“I can see how that would be a concern,” said Elenwe. She walked up to the one who was stirring the soap and asked, “What scent are you making?”
The elf said nothing, but looked to Turgon calmly and bowed his head slightly toward him.
“He cannot answer you,” apologized Turgon. “He, and his brethren, have all taken a vow of silence.”
Elenwe’s jaw dropped. “Should we be talking in here, then?” she whispered to him.
“Oh, sure. We never took a vow of silence. At least, I never did. I thought about it – I really agree with the rest of their teachings,” admitted Turgon. “My father was for it as well. My mother was a little concerned, but it was the silence that really was not going to work well for me. You see, I like to talk.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes,” Turgon informed her. “Talking is a wonderful thing. Voice inflection, accents, different dialects – talking is a lot of fun. I know some people disdain it, but as for me, I love it. I love debates, too,” he added. “I wish I had more opportunity to make speeches, but I never seem to get asked back to places… I think I must impart all knowledge upon them, and it makes other speakers look bad…” He watched her drift to the rows of bottles along the wall.
“Can I ask you what might be a stupid question?” Elenwe looked over her shoulder to see if Turgon was still paying attention or even in the room.
“Of course. What is your question?”
“Why are we here?” She pulled one of the bottles that was crimson colored from the spot where it was stored. It was slightly smaller than a regular bottle of wine, but more ornately designed.
Turgon walked up to her and pulled the bottle from her hands. “I help them here. This is my other home, I suppose. My other job, without a doubt, but this is also something of a home for me. I wanted to join them, although, as you know, I would have ruined it in the first hour by talking – either to someone else or myself.” He replaced the bottle on the shelf. “I just thought… well, I wanted it to be somewhere special, so that years from now when we talked about it, you would remember this really interesting place. I guess because I thought, well, I hoped you might understand. Or, at least, not run away. You probably are bored of being here already,” he sighed.
“No, not at all. Just… curious,” admitted Elenwe. “This is just not the sort of place I would consider for a date. It seems so… religious.”
“Monasteries tend to be.”
Elenwe was unable not to burst out laughing. The monks, startled by this reaction, looked to one another in confusion. “Sorry,” she apologized to them and to Turgon. “I… yes, it is very religious. Very nice, yes.” She walked back to the vat with the soap in it. “Smells like lilacs.”
“It might be.” Turgon leaned over to get a good sniff. “Yes, definitely lilac. Maybe with a little vanilla in it?” He stood up and looked at the elf stirring the concoction. The elf smiled and nodded. “Nice. Very nice. Oh… is it alright if we… go up…?” Turgon waited for the monk to nod again before looping his arm around Elenwe’s. “I have another place to show you. You are going to like this one even more.” He began to leave the room but circled back around to select the red bottle from the shelves. “We should take this with us,” he decided, and they left the basement and headed back up the stairs again. From there, Turgon took Elenwe to another flight, and then again to another, until they arrived at the top of the building. There was a set of doors at the top of a short flight, and these led out to a platform.
The platform was circular in shape, and had a low railing all the way around it. At the center of the platform, someone had set out a picnic blanket, a basket, wineglasses, plates, and a vase with a single blue rose in it. “Did you do all of this?” asked Elenwe.
Turgon blushed and shrugged. He watched Elenwe walk to the blanket spread across the floor and kneel down on the edge of it. She bent her head slightly to smell the rose in the vase. “I wanted to get a red one, but I was told that someone bought them out.”
Elenwe giggled and motioned Turgon over to join her. He did so, and opened the basket to pull out a corkscrew and reveal the treats within. “Are those chocolate covered strawberries?” she asked as the cork popped out of the bottle and shot over the side of the railing, arcing down into the pews below.
“Yes. I asked your mother what you liked to eat. Research,” he reminded her as she disbelievingly watched him pour the wine.
“You are incredible,” she remarked as one of the wineglasses was handed to her.
“I know,” he said as he lifted his glass up. “But then, so are you.” He winked and clinked his glass against hers. “Do you know what is even better than strawberries and chocolate?”
“What?”
“Look up.”
Elenwe did so, and gasped as she saw the view through the domed glass ceiling. It was Telperion’s turn to light the sky, and the stars glittered and gleamed brightly above. “They are so beautiful,” she whispered.
“They pale in comparison to you,” answered Turgon.
It was Elenwe’s turn to blush as she lowered her head and looked across the blanket at him. “Is it too early in our relationship for me to kiss you?”
“It is never too early for that,” declared Turgon as he leaned forward -- stars, wine, and strawberries forgotten.
